


Souped-Up Pumpkin Ride

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unconnected vignettes of Colin and Damian throughout the years, and how they loved each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souped-Up Pumpkin Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This week sucked and I was really mad yesterday so I wrote these. Based on the cutie-patootie tune ‘Cinderella’ by Daughtry. This is full of fluffy and gooey mushyness and is probably terrible, but I don’t even care. Numbers at the beginning of each story is Colin and Damian’s ages at the time of the story.

_fifteen_  

“Don’t you…I dunno, have a butler?” Colin asked from the doorway. “I mean, that’s your excuse for not doing anything _else_ you don’t want to do _. ‘It’s Pennyworth’s job, it’s what he’s paid for, blah blah blah.’_ ” 

“I do _not_ say blah blah blah.” Damian grumbled, only glancing back momentarily. He crossed his legs against the rug and leaned forward over the side of the bathtub. Titus was watching Colin intently, trying his hardest not to wag his tail and splash water everywhere. Judging by the splotches on Damian’s shirt and droplets on his face, though, it’d happened at least once already. “And it’s _my_ dog.” 

“Alfred’s given him baths before.” Colin countered. He glanced down at his watch. “And we’re going to be late.” 

“The festival is happening all day. All week, actually.” Damian snapped. “It’s okay if we’re a little late. Or go tomorrow.” 

“Hm.” Colin craned his neck up, glancing at the water. It was awfully muddy for one of Titus’s seasonal baths. He stared down at the floor and even turned to look back down the hallway. He hadn’t noticed it when he walked through it before. Muddy paw prints trailed down the hallway, bright flower petals scattered amongst them. “Oh.” 

When Colin looked back up, he saw that Damian had turned to look at him once more. The second their gazes met, though, Damian’s dropped and shame filled his face. 

“I wasn’t paying attention. Titus saw a rabbit.” Damian whispered. “It was Pennyworth’s favorite of the gardens he tends to. I’m not going to be able to replace the flowers before he returns from that event with Father – I might not even be able to replace the flowers for the rest of this growing season. He’s already going to be upset when I inform him of what happened, the least I can do is try to clean up as much as I can before he returns.” 

Colin glanced back down the hallway. “It’s going to take a long time.” 

“I’m aware.” Damian sounded downright miserable. He turned back towards the bath as Titus gave an apologetic whine. “I’m sorry, Colin. I don’t think I’ll be able to attend the festival with you today.” 

“That’s okay.” Colin smiled, slipping out of his jacket and laying it along the sink. He pushed up his sleeves as he knelt next to Damian, who glanced up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Colin laughed as he took the rag from Damian’s hand and dunked it in the water as he lifted one of Titus’s paws. “We’ll just go later.” 

~~ 

_seventeen_  

“No way.” Damian deadpanned as he descended the front steps of Wayne Manor. 

“Eh?” Colin held his arms out in presentation, wiggling his fingers obnoxiously. He looked like some sort of salesman, or magician in the spotlight of the porch’s lanterns. “What do you think?” 

“I _think_ …there’s no way in hell I’m getting in that car.” Damian crossed his arms. His eyes were wide, eyebrows cocked as he took in the metal object. It was a pale, faded green with metal highlights that were probably silver once upon a time. It couldn’t have been younger than twenty-five years old. “Does that thing even have _seatbelts?_ ”

 “It passed inspection yesterday, and I have the paperwork to prove it.” Colin promised. “Do you really think I’d let my _best friend on the planet_ into any sort of vehicle without making sure it was safe first? I’m an orphan, Damian, not stupid. I know who your dad is. While I know I’ll never be able to compete with his wheels, I also know he’d _skin me alive_ if anything happened to you.” 

“He’s _already_ going to skin you alive.” Damian smirked. “I’m grounded. And it’s late. I don’t even think I’m supposed to be standing out here talking to you. That’s how _grounded_ I am.” 

“Better make it worthwhile then, huh?” Colin’s grin was mischievous and his voice was smooth as he swung the passenger door open. Damian instantly took a step forward, but then just as suddenly hesitated. 

The thing was a deathtrap, he could see it. The dirty seats were just as faded as the exterior, and probably made of more leather than Damian was comfortable with. He’d heard the thing pull up – hell, probably half of Gotham heard the thing pull up. With its clunking engine and squealing breaks, he’s shocked his father hadn’t returned already to hide him away indoors once more.

But. 

Colin was _so proud_ of it. He’d been working at that garage for a year and a half now, spent every dime he had on it. Damian had been joking about the seatbelts thing. He knew Colin had recruited Grayson, Todd and even Barbara Gordon to help him fix it up, get it past normal safety standards. 

Not to mention Colin swore that when he got a car, Damian would be the first one to ride in it. As a thank you for the Abuse-cycle all those years back. And if the video Todd had sent a few hours earlier of Colin starting the engine for the first time was any indication, Colin was set to make good on that promise. 

Damian’s hesitation apparently stretched longer than he realized. Colin’s smile suddenly faltered, and his voice was soft. “…Please?” 

Well. Damian couldn’t quite say no to that. 

~~ 

_nineteen_  

“I still don’t understand why you wanted to live _here_.” Damian huffed, plopping the two boxes in his arms onto the rickety coffee table. “Grayson was offering you his old place for a reduced rate. That flat isn’t all that great, but it’s still a step up from… _this_.” 

“You know I’m uncomfortable with handouts from your family.” Colin laughed as he tossed a box to the sofa. “Except for the phone. That’s pretty cool. Can you thank Tim for me again?” 

“It wasn’t a _handout_ , it was more _practical_.” Damian argued, watching as Colin reached up and pulled the rubber band out of his hair. “Grayson had it modified for his Nightwing tools. Those modifications are still there and would be perfect for your Abuse equipment.” 

“I can make my own way, Damian. But I do appreciate it.” Colin hummed, running his fingers through his hair before tying it back up.

 “Yeah, well…” Damian glanced around the room. There was nothing else to be brought up, just unpacked, and Damian’s patrol route started in less than an hour. “So…you’ve got your car, got your place…you even got that new phone. What more do you need?” 

Colin barked another laugh, pulling the phone from his pocket. He suddenly looked a bit like Titus – cocked head, wide brown eyes, goofy smile. “Maybe a number to put in it?” 

“You don’t remember my number?” Damian gawked. “I…think I should be really insulted.” 

“I know Wayne Manor’s number, I know Batman’s hotline number, _and_ Oracle’s, _and_ Robin’s.” Colin listed off, holding the device out between them. “But I don’t have your _personal_ number. I’ve never called it, remember? I’ve always just used your brothers’ phones. The only times I’ve ever called you was when I was with them. Otherwise…I’m pretty phone-illiterate.” 

Damian sighed, stomping over to the kitchen without warning. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve survived this long.” 

“Hey…where are you going?” Colin called after him. He glanced between the phone and his disappearing friend. “The phone’s in my hand!” 

“Yes, it is.” Damian came back scribbling on a notepad cupped in his palm. As he finished, he leaned dangerously close to Colin’s face and tore the page from its set. Colin shifted back with the movement, eyes involuntarily dropping to Damian’s mouth, and Damian took the moment to smack the note to Colin’s forehead.

“Wha…hey!” Colin sputtered as Damian backed away. He peeled the note from his skin and stared down at it. “What’re you-” 

“You don’t like _handouts_ , right? So learn how to use your own phone.” Damian smirked. Colin opened his mouth to retort, but Damian spun around to the door and opened it. “Call me when you figure it out.” 

Colin called an hour later. 

(And texted every hour after that.) 

~~ 

_twenty_  

When Dick called, Colin wasn’t too fazed. Damian rarely went _missing_ , just chose to unfindable for a while. And anyway, he and Dick had been fighting a bit lately, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his friend was hiding from his brother. But it was after Bruce rang in, and Alfred, claiming that both his communicator and GPS went offline at the same time hours before, that there was a lot of blood and fire and dead bodies at his last known crime scene, that Colin found himself with a heightened heartbeat, staring unblinkingly out the window in search.

But it was after a message from Nell – Damian’s only other friend, the only other person that Damian would _never_ hide from – that Colin threw on a coat and boots, grabbed his umbrella and headed out the door. 

It only took him a half an hour to find Damian – Nightwing, now – kneeling in a dirty alleyway, hands curled and twitching against the pavement in front of him. His breathing was loud and hitched, and it sounded like he was gagging. Despite the pouring rain, the tears cascading down Damian’s face were obvious. 

Colin didn’t say anything as he approached. Didn’t say anything as he crouched in front of his friend. Didn’t say anything as he shifted the umbrella to cover the vigilante. 

It was a few seconds longer before he whispered, “Damian.” 

Damian’s head jerked up with a gasp. One of the lenses of his mask had been broken out, but one eye was all Colin needed to make a diagnosis. There was no blue iris, Damian’s pupil was blown too wide. His breathing sped up as he tried to shift backwards. 

“N-no…Colin…I…I’m sorry, I…” 

Fear toxin. 

Colin reached out, grabbing Damian’s elbow. Damian still tried to pull away, forcing Colin to use some of Abuse’s strength to hold him. 

“Damian, it’s oka-” 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Colin!” Damian shrieked, near thrashing to get loose. But he was too tired, too weak, too injured. The tears in the Nightwing suit were more obvious now that Colin could see his chest. “Please…please don’t be mad! Please don’t hate me!” 

“Never.” Colin said sternly. Damian hesitated at that, and even went a little limp. Colin took a chance, shifted to his own knees and dragged Damian forward. Damian collapsed against his chest, head against his shoulder, shaky breath breezing across his throat. Colin balanced the umbrella against his other shoulder, angling it to cover them both as he cupped Damian’s cheek and kissed his forehead. Damian whimpered slightly, but Colin felt the vigilante clutch his jacket and smiled against his soaked skin. “Never ever.” 

~~ 

_twenty-one_  

“Be honest.” Damian breathed, barely able to take his eyes off the set of blades across his lap. “Where did you get these?” 

“I have my sources.” Colin drawled next to him, proudly taking a swig of his beer. That made Damian glance up at him with narrowed eyes. “Okay, okay! I had them specially made.” 

Damian’s mouth dropped open. “But they only make this type of blade in Eastern Europe! And it costs a fortune!” 

“So?” 

“Don’t ‘so’ me, Colin Wilkes.” Damian scolded. “You don’t have that kind of wealth. And even if you did, you _promised_ you wouldn’t do anything extravagant.” 

Colin snorted. “Like I’ve never broken a promise before.” 

Damian scowled and looked back down at the twin swords. He ran his fingers lightly over the metal, clearly feeling guilty about accepting the gift. Colin bit his lips, trying not to smile. Damian _hated_ when he smiled at him while he was conflicted, claiming he _wasn’t_ cute and Colin _shouldn’t_ think he is. 

Instead, he threw his arm across the back of the sofa, shifting to curl the limb around Damian’s shoulders and tuck him against his side. “Real truth?” 

Damian went with the motion, scooting down in the couch cushions a little so Colin’s shoulder would pillow his head. “Are you implying what you just told me wasn’t?”

“I…may have seen you eying those blades above the fireplace at that pub we went to over the summer.” Colin said as Damian held one of the blades up. “Went back last month to try to and make a deal, but the owner wouldn’t budge.” 

“Oh my god.” Damian twisted his neck to stare up at him. “You didn’t _steal_ these, did you?”

 “Of course not! What do you take me for, a common criminal?” Colin feigned hurt before grinning in satisfaction. “I _won_ them.”

“Won them.” Damian repeated. “Doing… _what_?” 

“Arm wrestling.” Colin said nonchalantly. “You were right, you know. That training to _not_ beef up when using Abuse’s strength really did come in handy.” 

Damian pushed his tongue into his cheek to hide his own smile. “So, you _cheated_.” 

Colin shrugged dramatically, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, causing Damian to let out a small chuckle. “Eh…maybe a little.” He then glanced down with a flirtatious grin. “What are _you_ going to do about it?”

Damian matched the grin, humming thoughtfully as he absently patted at Colin’s thigh. 

~~ 

_twenty-one and a half_  

“Damian.” Bruce rumbled from the doorway. He looked exhausted, with barely open eyes and hair sprouting every which way. Damian felt guilty, he did. His father had been on a mission in deep space for weeks, and they’d finally convinced him to take a night off from Gotham and get some sleep. Then _this_ happens. “Tell him to go _home_.” 

“I…am working on it, Father.” Damian nodded. 

“Or at the very least.” Bruce sighed. “Have him come inside. So long as he promises to _be quiet_.” 

“Of course.” Damian agreed with a slowly growing grin. “Thank you, Father.” 

“Hm.” Bruce grunted, turning away. “Just hope I don’t remember that I said that come breakfast.” 

“He’ll, uh…be gone by the time you wake up.” Damian guaranteed. He even went so far as to wave as Bruce vanished into the hall. As soon as he was gone, Damian spun around and raced across the room, throwing open both doors to the balcony. 

He threw himself against the railing, staring down into the yard. Titus was barking, running around in circles. Colin was shouting – er, _singing_ – and doing almost the same. More trying to dance than anything, Damian assumed, but alcohol makes people do strange things. Like appear in someone’s yard with a ukulele at two in the morning and try to sing Italian opera, for instance. 

“Colin,” Damian hissed. Neither the redhead nor dog stopped. “Pssst, Colin!” 

All noises stopped, the ukulele with a slight twang. Colin looked up squinting, though his face brightened tremendously when he saw it was Damian. 

“ _What_ are you doing?” Damian asked. “And _where_ did you get a ukulele?” 

“Ukulele? This is cello!” Colin slurred, tone disbelieving as if Damian were the dumb one. “The guys found it outside the bar we were at. In a dumpster, I think. It smells like cheese, but whatever. And I’m serenading, _duh_.” 

“Serenading, right.” Damian sighed with a laugh. “Well, Romeo, I think you’re done for the night. How about you and your, uh… _trusty steed_ there come inside?” 

Colin’s face suddenly went blank. “But it’s late.” 

“Yes.” 

“Is…is Batman here?” 

“Yes.” 

Colin’s eyes widened. “But your dad never lets…” 

“He gave the okay, this time. So long as you _stop singing_.” Damian explained. Colin immediately threw the ukulele down, excitedly holding his hands up in defeat. Slowly, Damian turned back around, sauntering back into his room with a leer. “Better hurry before he changes his mind.”

~~

_twenty-three_  

The room was too quiet, too full of colors that were supposed to be relaxing, too bright. The bed was too uncomfortable and his butt was starting to hurt, sitting on the edge of it. He could hear Bruce and Dick arguing in the hallway. The fight was getting heated, getting louder, and Colin had half a mind to either shout at them to shut up, or lock the hospital room’s door so neither of them could come back in. Damian didn’t need that, not right now. 

Among the list things that were _too_ -anything, Damian’s hand was too _cold_. Even clutched between Colin’s for the past hour and a half, he just couldn’t warm it up. He huffed against the fingers before kissing at Damian’s knuckles and draping himself across the injured man’s lower torso. He could feel the bandages underneath the hospital gown, but more than that, could feel Damian’s heartbeat, his deep, even breathing. 

He was going to be okay, Leslie said so. But still.

They’d almost lost him tonight. 

There was a loud thump in the hallway, followed by Dick shouting, _“Punching walls isn’t going to make your son better!”_

Colin closed his eyes, burying his nose against the papery fabric of the gown, trying to block out the yells. They were both upset, and reasonably so. Damian wasn’t supposed to be out tonight, but had shown up at the confrontation anyway. Without any of them knowing, Damian had met with the enemy, had agreed to sacrifice himself for the others. And what Dick was angry about was the fact that it seemed Bruce was going to let him do it. 

Colin didn’t blame Bruce, whether Dick’s accusations were true or not. Didn’t blame Dick either, or Stephanie or Tim, or any of vigilantes present at the scene. He knew as well as any of them that if Damian set his mind to something, he was going to do it, no matter what anyone said or did to try and stop him. 

Suddenly Bruce let out howl that could have shaken the walls, but Dick didn’t back down. Colin just sighed and held on to Damian’s side tighter. 

“How long have they been at it?” 

Damian’s voice was soft and scratchy. Colin slowly opened his eyes and glanced up. Damian was barely conscious, his own eyes barely open, but his fingers tightened around Colin’s and that was enough. 

“A while.” Colin whispered, sitting up and running his free hand across Damian’s head and gently down his bandaged and battered face. Damian tried to scowl, but under the pain medication, it didn’t quite work. Colin tried to smile, but was still frazzled by the night’s events, so it came out wrong. He leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to Damian’s forehead. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Please,” Damian mumbled, rolling his eyes. Colin pecked at his nose. “I’m not stupid. I know what I look like.” 

“You look _alive_.” Colin stated. He hesitated in his trail of kisses, leaving his lips centimeters from Damian’s as he leaned their foreheads together. “And you’ve never been more beautiful.”

Despite the hazed, blank look on his face, Colin spotted the blush creeping across his features. But before he could comment, Damian tilted his head forward, finishing the kiss Colin had paused on, then hid his face against the redhead’s neck. “Don’t be gross.” 

~~ 

_twenty-four_  

“I like it.” Colin hummed, holding his hand out in front of him. Damian had never seen someone smile this long before. Maybe Grayson. 

“You’ve said.” Damian muttered, not looking away from the computer. This was the last thing he needed to do before he could leave the office for the day.

He felt arms encircle his neck, a chin on his shoulder. “I _really_ like it.” 

“You’ve said that too,” Damian couldn’t stop the smile from appearing, and Colin knew it. 

“Your dad said you could leave work early today.” Colin mused. “I mean, I’m _pretty_ _sure_ most guys who just _proposed_ do something like that.” 

“Are you saying you’ve been proposed to before?” Damian asked. Colin vehemently shook his head, smacking a reassuring kiss against Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed. “Look at it this way. I get this done _now_ , then I won’t have to come back to the office _later_.” 

Colin laughed too. It was high and excited, and made Damian’s entire being feel at peace. “I know, I know. How much longer?” 

“Twenty minutes, tops.” Damian returned. “Promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Colin swore. 

“And I hope you do.” Damian agreed, taking hold of Colin’s hand and kissing at the palm. He pulled the hand away after a second, staring down at the silverish-black band now around Colin’s fourth finger. “I didn’t…I tried to…” he sighed. “Do you _really_ like it?” 

 “More than that.” Colin said thoughtfully, pressing his cheek to Damian’s, reaching down and holding up Damian’s now-also ringed hand. “I _love_ it.” He paused. “Maybe as much as I love you, but not likely.” 

Damian snorted a chuckle. “Good.”

“In fact, I’d be _happy_ to show you how _much_ I love it… _and_ you, I suppose. But when your work is done of course.” Colin explained as he slid away from Damian’s neck and strolled slowly around the desk. Damian was watching him closely and he knew it. He made his way across the office, flopping ungracefully onto the sofa, body stretched and arms behind his head, a cocky smile etched across his lips. “So you better work fast, Mr. Wayne. Or should I already start calling you _husband_?” 

Damian never bothered to answer, suddenly incredibly focused on finishing his work as fast as humanly possible.


End file.
